


Keep me in the present

by RinkaRanka



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Valentine's Day, and he gets one, it's just a cut, light injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinkaRanka/pseuds/RinkaRanka
Summary: Bruce tries to make a little something for his valentine.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 80





	Keep me in the present

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a comic page, felt feels, had to do something about them.  
> It's a bit late for Valentine's stuff but eh :P

Clark woke up to the smell of something burning. Immediately, his eyes flew open and his superior senses kicked in to work out what was happening and where before his mind could even start processing reality, running on years of experience. When he realized that something was burning here, in the manor, he shot out of bed and quickly followed the stench to find the source.

Unsurprisingly, he found it - or rather him - in the kitchen.

Bacon and eggs were burned to coals with no hopes of salvation. Clark quickly took a few steps to the stove and turned it off, to prevent any more casualties. Why didn’t Bruce turn it off in time? Surely the world’s greatest detective must be able to notice when the meat starts looking less like something that was ever organic. With this exact question, he turned to the aforementioned man, a quick-witted jab at the tip of his tongue (oh excuse him for being bitter at woken up too early at his so very rare day off - he, unlike _some_ people, worked five days a week).

  
  
  


Bruce stood there motionless, unseeing gaze fixed on his palm that was dripping deep red on the chopped vegetables. Whatever the man of steel wanted to say was instantly forgotten. Instead, the man came closer and gingerly took the injured hand in his much bigger one, trying his best not to hurt the other further, and moved it to better see the wound.

“Bruce?”

Zero reaction. The man’s frozen eyes didn’t move an inch, his blank pale face a perfect emotionless mask that bore no trace of the storms raging underneath.

“Bruce.” Clark shook his shoulder lightly and spoke louder to get his attention, but with no result. Gotham’s favourite son showed no resistance and went with the motion like a puppet with its string cut.

Superman felt as if his lungs were bound with metal, unable to get enough air. The sight of his stubborn, strong-willed, always full of fight lover being so... lifeless made him sick, the sound of so tenderly adored heartbeat was the only thing that kept him from breaking. Clark tried looking into the icy blues, but there was no recognition. Whatever Bruce was seeing it was not his boyfriend’s worried face.

“Bruce, look at me!” Clark shouted now, his trembling fingers pressing bruises into Bruce’s fragile skin. Again, the other man stayed in a motionless trance.

The symbol of hope was starting to feel desperate, the traitorous panic creeping in. He didn’t know what to do. He had never seen Bruce like this before. What was going on? Was he enchanted? Hypnotized? Poisoned? Mind-controlled? Was it all a dream?

Clark put his shaking hands on Bruce’s marble-like face, thumbs gently brushing high cheekbones, and kissed him, trying to get some sort of reaction out of this statue of a man. When there was none, Clark felt like crying. He kissed soft frozen lips again and again and got nothing. A tear fell down his cheek but he didn’t even notice. In the last attempt, he pushed the silky black hair back and pressed a long kiss to Bruce’s forehead.

Suddenly he felt a shiver run through the smaller man.

Immediately, Clark pulled away to look at Bruce properly.

It was like Bruce was in slow motion. He blinked once, twice. His pupils gradually returned to focus. He let out a surprised breath as if he didn’t understand where is he. His questioning eyes found Clark’s wet ones, and he reached his hand to brush off his boyfriend’s tear but stopped short. He saw the red, and only now felt the pain. Realization showed on his face.

“It happened again, didn’t it.” 

“What?” Clark blinked in confusion, his voice cracking.

“I spaced out. Again,” Bruce said with frustration. He glanced past Clark’s body and saw charred remnants of what was supposed to be breakfast. “Goddamit.”

He clenched his fists, uncaring about the wound, and wouldn’t look Clark in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Superman still wasn’t understanding what transpired but he already felt much better since his boyfriend was finally acting like himself again.

“For being so… so… useless!” Bruce suddenly burst with anger and disappointment. ”I can’t even cook you breakfast without fucking ruining it!”

“You were trying to make me breakfast?”

“Yes! And I _failed_ , like the _failure_ I am. Can’t even make scrambled eggs without-”

“Without disassociating?” Finally, Clark processed what has happened properly.

Bruce didn’t answer and instead hid his face in his hands, smearing blood all over his cheek, which was an answer in itself.

The man of steel hugged his boyfriend close to his chest and tucked Bruce’s face under his chin, calmingly massaging other man’s scalp.

“It’s not the first time it happened, right?”

He felt a small nod of other man’s head.

“Does it often happen when you try to cook?”

Another nod.

“Does it happen in other situations too?”  
  
“Depends.”

“Hmm.”

They stood there for some time, Bruce hiding in Clark’s neck, and Clark waiting for Bruce to find the strength to talk.

“I- I saw- I saw their blood.” Finally came muffled words. The wet spot on Clark’s t-shirt grew. “On my hands. It was their blood on my hands. I-” Bruce broke off into sobs.

“Shh.” Clark started petting his hair and pressed a soothing kiss on the top of his head. “It’s alright. It wasn’t their blood, B. It wasn’t.”

Slowly, he lifted the other man in his arms and flew them both to the nearest sofa. He put Bruce on his lap and held him close like a child. He felt his partner tremble and heave silently on his shoulder and his heart ached for the tortured man. All he could do right now was to be there for him, but how he wished he could do more.

Slowly Bruce calmed down, and his sobs grew quieter, and soon he was just lying on Clark’s chest, tired out by his emotions.

“I ruined your shirt,” he said in a guilty voice, pulling his bloody hand away from the stained cloth.

“It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Once again they fell into silence, but not for long this time.

“You were trying to make me breakfast? Why?” Clark couldn’t wrap his head around the concept.

“It’s the 14th.” Bruce curled up on his chest like a cat.

“So wha- _oh,_ wait, really? You- you wanted to make me a Valentine gift?” Clark felt his chest get warmer.

Bruce nodded again.

“I thought you didn’t like the day because it’s a capitalism-driven idea that is made by big companies to sell the holiday-themed merch?” He couldn’t help but lift a brow at his so cynical lover.

“I wanted to be a good boyfriend to you.”

That was the closest Bruce ever came to admitting his feelings and Clark’s heart swelled. He lifted other man’s chin with his finger, but his partner averted his eyes.

“Look at me,” Clark asked in a soft voice, and when Bruce did, he spoke, putting as much feeling as he could in his words. “You are the best boyfriend I could have asked for.” At Bruce’s obvious disbelief he continued. “You understand me like no one else. I trust you like no one else. I know you trust me like no one else too. And you do so much for me already. You made surgical tools just so you could save me-”

“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” Bruce snorted.

“But without them, I would have died many times! And that time you helped me with finding the stolen collection of Kryptonian artefacts?”  
  
“Oh, it was nothing.”  
  
“It was everything! That’s my heritage, Bruce, and without your help, I wouldn’t find it! Also, solar lamps? Can you count how many times they helped me restore my powers?”

“58.”

“That was rhetorical. The point is, you already are doing so much for me, you really don’t need to make breakfasts for me to be a good boyfriend. But I really appreciate the thought.” He took the injured palm and kissed the knuckles. “Now, let’s take care of this, shall we?”

Bruce gave him a little smile and Clark took it as yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and thanks Pan for helping me with editing x3


End file.
